This Light on the Dark Side of Me
by detective-sweetheart
Summary: We stood that way for a long moment, before she finally spoke, her voice muffled by my shirt.


**A/N: Not mine. My muse is dragging me on another one-shot marathon. Apparently it's decided that I need a break from working on my chaptered stuff, so...here goes nothing. If one cares to look hard enough, it could be considered somewhat of of a post ep for Cold Comfort. **

* * *

I was thinking too hard again. The amusing part about it was that for once, I was actually willing to admit it, if only because I wanted to sleep, but as it was, sleep in itself was illusive…yet again. And I knew it'd had to do with the case we'd just finished, some out of nowhere investigation that had started with a murder, and had led quickly into the backstory of some politician, and to an illness that I knew more about than I cared to admit. Oh, and a battle between siblings as to what to do with their father's body, which was what had led to the murder in the first place. 

Somehow, it had warranted my squad, and that was probably part of why I was still awake, despite not wanting to be. I supposed it was because of all the press that came along with it, which was ridiculous, really, because at first glance, it didn't even really seem that important. But apparently, it was. And so we'd found ourselves stuck with it, the case, and issues that ranged from motive to cryogenic freezing. It was more than I cared to think about.

More, because regardless of whether or not I wanted to admit it, it had affected me in a way I hadn't thought it would, because of the fact that the one innocent party in the whole thing was slowly becoming what my father already was. Someone who suffered from an incurable illness that slowly took away their memories. It was for this reason that I was thinking as hard as I was, and for this reason that I was still awake in the first place, even though I'd told Angie a while ago that I was going to bed, and had proceeded to pretend to be asleep when she'd come in an hour or two later. As it was, she was fast asleep and completely oblivious to everything. I, on the other hand, was not.

And it was this that made me get up, slowly, so as not to wake her, because I knew that I would not be able to sleep anytime soon, which wasn't exactly a good thing, because I was still due at work in the morning, unlike her, and it was already midnight. But I didn't feel like lying there anymore, it wasn't raining, and there was nothing else for me to do but walk. So I went downstairs, put on a jacket and shoes, and then proceeded to leave the house, taking my keys with me. Angie would notice within the next hour or so that I was gone, I mused, and would probably come after me, but at the moment, I was alone, and that was the way I wanted it.

It was actually pretty cool outside, which wasn't too surprising, given the fact that it was late. I had no idea where I was going, but had the feeling as I walked beneath the streetlights that I was going to end up at the neighborhood park, the way I always seemed to. I wondered why that was, and figured that on some unconscious level, it was me, looking for the sort of innocence that I had lost a long time ago. That it was me, looking for an answer that I was more than likely never going to find. Needless to say, the thought was anything but comforting.

The old metal merry-go-round was moving with the wind, and it was the creaking sound of it that greeted me as I entered the park, knowing on some level that technically, I wasn't supposed to be there, since it was long after dark, and while part of me wanted to leave because of it, the other part of me didn't really care. It wasn't as if anyone was actually looking out their window to see if there was anyone lingering around there. Besides that, I had always come here before to get away from things, and I didn't see myself going anywhere else anytime soon. So I remained, and instead of sitting on one of the benches, I sat on one of the swings.

"You remember how we met?" I asked, without turning, at the sound of footsteps behind me. Apparently, Angie had noticed that I was missing a lot sooner than I'd thought she would. Either that, or she hadn't really been asleep, either. She'd taken the back way in an attempt to beat me there, but it hadn't worked.

"Yeah, actually, I do," she said. "I'd rather not think about it, though, seeing as you always manage to start laughing whenever it's brought up."

"That's your fault," I said. "If you'd been thinking about what you were doing instead of going back and forth with your head in the clouds, you wouldn't have let go." "And you wouldn't have caught me, is that it?" Angie gave me an amused look as she sat in the empty swing beside the one I was in. "I can still see the look on your face, y'know, when you saw me falling towards you."

"And you tell me I pay too much attention to detail. What do you call that? It's been what, twenty-something years now, if not thirty-something?"

"I think I lost count again. Either way, it's been a long time." Angie trailed off and shook her head. "You thought I'd done it on purpose, didn't you?"

"Had you not been falling backwards, maybe," I said. "Given the fact that you had no idea that I was behind you, no."

"You know, I wonder sometimes what would've happened if you hadn't been there to catch me," she remarked, and then, "D'you have any idea how risky it is to stand behind a swing in the first place, when there's someone in it?"

"Yeah, I actually managed to figure that out the first time one of your shoes hit me in the head because you kicked 'em backwards without paying attention to whether or not anyone was there," I said. "And I wonder about that sometimes, too."

"Well, gee, if I'd known that hitting you in the head with a shoe would turn you into what you are now, I'd never have done it."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Angie shook her head at me, looking amused. "Nothing," she said, "It's not supposed to mean anything."

I doubted this, but decided not to debate it with her. I had too much on my mind as it was.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to start losing your memories?" I asked finally, quietly. "Just…out of nowhere. You wake up one day and you can't remember a face, or a name, or something that happened to you however long ago."

"You've been thinking about the case again," said Angie, more of a question than the statement it sounded like.

I shook my head. "No," I said, and then, "Well, yes, but I've…I've also been thinking about my father."

This was a subject that was rarely discussed between the two of us; I never brought it up, and she never asked. I wondered what had changed to want me to lead the two of us into this particular conversation, and decided that I'd only get a headache if I went down that path, too.

"Because of the case?" Angie asked, and when I nodded, she went on. "That can't be easy."

It wasn't. I half-expected her to make some crack about the whole thing, and felt guilty for it, because I knew that this was one subject in which her sarcasm would be left by the wayside, if only for my sake.

"It's not," I said. "This whole time, I've just been looking at everything, and it almost scares me that I understand for once exactly what was behind this guy's motive. All he wanted was a cure, but there isn't one."

Angie said nothing, somehow knowing that I hadn't finished, and I really hadn't. "You know, the funny thing about it is that the whole thing was a fluke, in the first place. The whole early onset thing? It doesn't just…disappear like that. It was nothing short of a miracle, and yet this guy thought that somehow, by studying the brain of this guy who'd managed to recover, he'd get somewhere, but there's nowhere for him to go."

"No," said Angie quietly, "No, there isn't." Suddenly I was glad that she'd decided to follow me this time, because the last time, she hadn't, and I'd gone farther into my thoughts than I'd cared to.

When I said nothing further, she went on. "So what happens now?"

"What happens now?" I asked. "He goes to prison, and in a year or so, his own kid's not going to remember him."

Suddenly I felt cold inside, and didn't like it. Angie was giving me a sideways glance, and I sighed as I looked back at her. "You know how I told you I was going to be working late a few days ago?" I asked, and she nodded.

"You weren't, really, were you?" she asked. I sighed again, and shook my head.

"No," I said, and felt guilty, not only for having lied to her in the first place, but for not having trusted her enough to tell her what I was really up to. Then again, I hadn't exactly been alone in this particular incident, but it did nothing to make me feel any better. "I wasn't working late."

"Where did you go?" Angie asked, in that way that told me I didn't have to answer if I didn't want to, but she'd get it out of me sooner or later.

I didn't answer. At least, not at first. Silence lingered between the two of us until I felt her hand in mine, and only then did I speak again. "I went to see him."

"Alone?" she asked, quietly. I shook my head.

"No," I said, "No, not alone. Julia went with me, and Colleen was in town for once…I have no idea where Claire is, though, but we called her afterwards, because none of us really felt like doing anything else…"

"What did she say?" Angie asked.

"She asked us why we'd bothered, when he didn't remember any of us. Said there wasn't really any point, but she was about as upset as the rest of us were…"

Going off to see him always had that effect on us; truth be told, I didn't really see the point, either, but I had gone anyway. "She asked us if we'd bothered to take Mom with us."

"Did you?" I shook my head. My mother was many things, but seeing my father the way he was always did something to her, something that my siblings and I did not understand, and doubted that we ever would. She went to see him on her own time; we went on ours.

"And this case brought all that back up again?" said Angie, and I knew she still wanted answers, ones that I wasn't sure I wanted to give, but ones that I'd give anyway, if only for the fact that I felt like talking, and didn't feel like changing the subject. "Yeah," I said, "Yeah, it brought all of it back up again. I just…it scares me, knowing that I could end up like that some day, or that one of my sisters could, or even my mother. I don't want to find out what it'll be like not to remember."

But whether I would find out or not was not up to me, and I knew it, and so did Angie, judging from the way she was looking at me, torn between sympathy and something else that I could not place. Something else that I did not want to name. But she said nothing, and I wondered if she would, and when she didn't, I went on.

"Would you stay?" I asked, and felt stupid for it, enough so that I didn't look her in the eye as I continued. "If that were to happen to me, would you stay?"

She looked half ready to smack me, and I almost expected her to, but she didn't. Instead, she got off of her swing and pulled me to my feet, hugging my tightly and burying her face in my chest. We stood that way, for a long moment, in silence, before she spoke, her voice muffled by my shirt.

"You idiot," she said. "What makes you think I wouldn't?"

I didn't know, and didn't think I cared to know, either. Hardly seemed to matter, anyway, now that I had an answer. She was there now, and would continue to be, no matter what happened. That was enough of a comfort. Suddenly, I wanted to go home. So we walked, the two of us, together, taking the long way, because there was no one around to tell us not to, and even if there had been, we'd have probably done it anyway, just because we could.

One of the streetlights flickered over us as we drew nearer to the house, but that didn't matter, either. I'd gone exploring on the dark side of myself, again, without meaning to, but somehow finding myself there nonetheless, but then, I looked at Angie, and thought about what she'd said and realized that for all the exploring I did, that, too, hardly mattered, because there was always some sort of light, from her, to pull me back to where I was supposed to be.


End file.
